Catching You
by br0ceans
Summary: Draco Malfoy finds his Veela mate his first year at Hogwarts and soon finds that his mate is all too unwilling to befriend him. Years pass, experiences change them, a war occurs. What will happen after the war when Draco finally comes to the conclusion that he needs to seek out his mate in order to live a life worth living? Will his mate coincide with Draco? Draco/Harry. Veela fic.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter_. All character references belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. I am simply putting her characters into different situations than what the books call for.

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Draco Malfoy was no fool. He knew from a very young age that with both his parents being half-Veelas, that he, himself, was a full one. Bloody bird transformation and all. He had known from age eleven who his true mate, his soul mate, his other half was. With this information, he attempted to woo his mate only to fall short and on the extreme opposite side of companionship: his mate thought of him as nothing more than a selfish, narcissistic school rival.

Soon he realized that the only way to come in any contact at all with his desired mate would be to bully him. To hurt him. To pick fights with him. If his mate wouldn't accept him for who he was, if his mate didn't want to be friends with him, then what other choice did he have to gain his attention?

Verbal spats lead to clumsy duels, which initiated frustrated physical brawls. His mate, angry that Draco could never seem to leave him alone, and Draco, aggravated to bits over the fact that his mate could never, would never, want him, wore off their exasperations through violence. And although his mate couldn't possibly realize that they were, too, reaching out to him, that was all right because at least he got to come in contact with them.

Draco was so very lonely without his mate now that their days at Hogwarts had come and gone. He had single-handedly lost what was most precious to him, all because of how boastful and rude he had been to his mate their very first day at Hogwarts.

He stirred in bed, remembering the brief encounter-one of the last, in fact-he had with his mate during the Final Battle of Hogwarts. He remembered taunting his mate, bullying him into getting his wand back. He recalled following his mate into the Room of Requirement and Crabbe starting that God-awful enchanted fire-Fiendfyre-nearly killing Draco and Goyle, and destroying himself in the process. He reminisced in the way that his mate so kindly saved him from the Fiendfyre, although he probably didn't realize why. Draco savored in the way his arms felt around his mate's midsection. How right it felt, how perfect. His mate didn't even chaste Draco for spooning up to him on his broom. Perhaps his mate didn't notice, but Draco knew they definitely did. Especially when Draco so boldly brushed his eager prick against his mate's backside. Maybe Draco had gone crazy or maybe his hearing was simply off, but he definitely heard a single moan escaping his mate's lips, the broom swerving slighting in the air. The slightly widened and dilated eyes his mate bestowed on Draco once they landed outside of the Room of Requirement was enough reinforcement he needed in his suspicions. His mate had definitely been affected by him. Draco would have liked nothing more than to flare up his Veela allure and slink away from the battle mate in tow, but he knew his mate had to leave him. His mate had to fight, possibly to the death. And that frightened Draco far more than he was willing to admit.

There were many things Draco Malfoy regretted in his life regarding his mate, but leaving him to fight the Dark Lord in the Battle of Hogwarts was not one of them. Nor was their brief sexual encounter-surprisingly initiated by his mate-in sixth year, although he didn't know if his mate lamented that act or not.

In Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, things between him and his mate definitely heated up. His mate followed him everywhere, picked fights with him, and did everything in their power to be near or touch Draco. Not that Draco was complaining in the slightest-his feelings were quite the opposite, actually. It was one day at the end of a dreary and rainy March day that his mate had confronted him in the dungeons corridor. He recalled giving a snide comment about how his mate was out of bed and how Draco, being a prefect, had every right to be out and about in the halls. He remembered taking five points from Gryffindor, a small form of revenge for his mate so vehemently rejecting him in their first year-not that his mate would ever know that was the true reason for taking the points.

His mate scoffed at his actions and moved closer to Draco. Everything shifted when his mate moved, Draco could feel it like it was tangible and directly in front of him. His mate was staring at him with their big, emerald orbs looking so dark and clouded with lust. His mate was looking at him like Draco was the prey and they were the predator. Draco remembered thoroughly enjoying that look in particular-he didn't care who played Dominant and who played Submissive, he just wanted his mate in the most extensive meaning of the word. After coming into his full Inheritance the previous summer, his cravings for his mate's presence had only intensified to the point of pain.

"Malfoy, if you think you are going to get me to go anywhere, you are sorely mistaken," his mate had purred, slinking towards Draco. "I am most content to stay right here."

His mate shoved him roughly against the cold stone, took Draco's hands in their own left hand and pinned them above his head; they stroked a line down his jaw with their right hand. "I've wanted to do that for awhile now," his mate admitted confidently. They placed one leg in between Draco's and pushed up softly, eliciting a faint groan from Draco.

"How beautiful you are when you are completely at my mercy," his mate continued. They licked a trail down Draco's neck, causing yet another low groan. "Tell me, Draco, do you like this? My mouth on you, my body so close to yours? Tell me, Draco, do you want more? Do you want me to kiss your begging lips?" It was that moment when Draco realized that his mate was the devil. So teasing they were, so sexy. The way his first name rolled off his mate's tongue was pure ecstasy.

"Yes," Draco remembered breathing, rolling his hips to meet his mate's. To this, his mate had responded by pinning Draco's hips down with their right hand.

"Ah, ah, ah, Draco. Patience. Everything good comes from waiting. And you've been waiting a long time, haven't you?" at Draco's nod, they continued, "I've seen the way you look at me in Potions when we're partners. I've noticed how you go out of your way to touch me. And now you want to touch me more than ever, isn't that right?" Draco nodded fervently once more-words were beyond him-and caused his mate to smile so breathtakingly. "If you want me so bad, Draco, if you want to touch me so much, do so."

His mate had stepped back a bit and let go of their hold on him. Draco seized the opportunity and grabbed hold of his mate's shoulders. He swung his mate around and pushed them up against the stone wall, effectively switching their positions. Draco recalled smirking when his mate outright moaned. "Now you tell me. Do you want me to kiss you? Do you want me to touch you, to fuck you?" Draco drawled, smirking smugly once more when his mate moaned at his words. "I'll take that as a yes."

Draco's mouth descended on his mate's faster than either of them could blink. Moaning openly at the way their mouths skidded and slipped against one another. Teeth clashed and lips were broken; blood was tasted but Draco didn't care. He was kissing his mate. When his mate's tongue reached his mouth, Draco felt that he could die right there.

In retrospect, Draco probably should have stopped there, realizing that his mate wasn't to be credited entirely for their actions- the years of pent up sexual frustrations between a Veela and his mate was completely taking hold.

Draco shifted in bed, feeling his prick begin to awaken at the memories of his beautiful mate.

He recalled pulling his mate down the dungeon corridor and into his private prefect room. He remembered putting a silencing charm on the room and the sounds of his mate's moans when Draco undressed them. The feel of his mate's lips on his body was beyond anything Draco had imagined, and the feel of his mate's lips on his more than eager prick was enough for him to climax right then and there. But he didn't. He recollected in the feeling of how tight his mate was, how hot on his member, how their bodies slicked and slid together, how perfect the moment was.

But it was broken. After a few moments of spooning in Draco's bed, his mate seemed to have come to their senses. "That never happened," his mate whispered, putting their clothes on and storming out of Draco's room with a speed that Draco had never seen before.

His mate left him alone in his room with the sheets of his bed pooled around his waste, slack-jawed and thoroughly confused.

Draco found that his mate unwilling to look at him for the rest of the school year, no matter what he did to gain their undivided attention.

So when Draco looked back on those few minutes with his mate during the Battle of Hogwarts and found himself wondering if his mate really had been effected by his touch, the answer was furthermore bolstered with the fact that his mate had indeed slept with him at least once before.

Draco rolled over onto his side and pulled the covers over his head.

He was a goner. His mate had him-hook, line and sinker. He was trapped. He needed his mate more than he needed the air he breathed, but how could he go about getting them when they had such a tangled and twisted past? He would have to try.

He hadn't seen his mate in a few months since the War had ended and Draco found himself desperate to get ahold of them. The only problem was where his mate was. They had slipped away from under the Ministry's nose and was rumored to have been spotted in Paris and Spain. This, Draco thought was bollox. His mate was probably lounging away in his inherited house and was having a good laugh at the _Daily Prophet_'s stupidity.

Draco slipped fitfully back into sleep, his dreams plagued with his mate. Emerald eyes and wild black hair, flashes of tanned and toned skin flittering in and out of his touch.

Draco murmured his mate's name in his sleep, moaned and turned on his side.

"Harry Potter."

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**A/N: **Hi guys. It's been a long time since I've posted anything, I know. If you're subscribed to me, I think you'll find that this is _very _different from what I normally write. I'm changing gears and picking new things to write about.  
I've been an avid Draco/Harry reader for awhile now and so I decided to try my own hand at the popular "Draco's a Veela and Harry is his mate" idea. I hope this has been and will continue to be up to par for you guys. c:


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